The black abyss of the void encroached upon the shadow's vision, as red eyes widened in fear. One hand gripping the holy steel of the blade thrust in and through him, while the other reached desperately upward.

Heroes are forged in darkness. Courage, is seeded from despair.

Green and gold stared down at him, shining like the sun. Sensation teased at his recollection. The taste of a summer breeze, the feeling of grass between his fingers, stone beneath his feet. It was all so close, and so, so far.

The deepest of shadows are cast from the brightest stars.

How fickle memories could be, copied so meticulously from the original to the wayward, fractured portion of a soul. Every victory, every hope; every joy and heroic deed. Made meaningless by the cruel machinations of an ancient evil.

The shadow choked on the blood pooling in his throat, pushed free by newborn lungs desperate for air. Salted tears crested the span of smooth skin sending ripples across a mirror-still pool.

I have not forgotten you, my hero. Even now, even cast out as you are.

Flesh and bone slipped away, leaving only drifting pieces of consciousness to distill as the Hero of Time took his leave, a new weapon the trophy for his slaughter. But hate fought the current of stillness, righteous anger an anchor for his will, and the shadow endured.

Sleep my dear shadow, and I shall make you into the blackest of suns.

Time slipped away as sand through cupped hands and the cycle continued, the Great Battle fought and won ad infinitum. All the while, watchful eyes worked and waited for the right time, until the fraying string of fate reached its threshold and destiny softened into flux.

This is your chance. Go, and remember that you are loved.

Under the reflection of a dire, blood moon the softly flowing waters of Lake Hylia broke, scattering droplets of water across the plane of the sacred lake and breaking the hypnotic grip of the moon. Risen from the breach, dark hair settled in wet locks across pale shoulders, and continued to cast streams of water down newly knit together flesh as fresh air set the body to bowing and heaving.

The shadow coughed and moaned, dragging himself with numbed limbs onto the island that marked the location of what had been his birthplace and his tomb, and collapsed in a shivering heap on a dampened patch of grass. Gooseflesh bloomed across untouched arms and the shadow laughed.

"Farore." The shadow gripped his right hand, fingers brushing against the dark outline of the Triforce that adorned the back of his palm. "I will make you proud." The shadow let himself fade into sleep, dreaming eagerly of the dawn.